


False Alarm

by kittensmctavish



Category: Buzzfeed Tasty: Eating Your Feed (Web Series), Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series), Buzzfeed: Worth It (Web Series)
Genre: Don't copy to another site, F/M, First Kiss, First Meetings, Fluff, Fluffy Ending, Kissing, Letters, Meet-Cute, Rain, Tea, Towels, Umbrellas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-12 17:52:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18015548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittensmctavish/pseuds/kittensmctavish
Summary: Ryan first sees her when the fire alarm goes off.





	False Alarm

**Author's Note:**

> this takes place in some sort of alternate universe where these two just happen to live in the same apartment complex and have a series of meet-cutes revolving around the fire alarm always going off.
> 
> inspired by a time in my apartment complex where the fire alarm really was going off way too often. also inspired by annie dressing up as paddington for halloween.
> 
> (there's a cameo from the fulmers in there.) (also a reference to the hotdaga.)
> 
> (i hate the title but i can't think of a better one.)

Ryan first sees her during when the fire alarm goes off.

***

It’s Halloween night. Ryan could be out at a bar, at someone’s party, at someone else’s house. Instead, he’s huddled under a blanket, curled up in his chair, watching “Wait Until Dark” in the dark.

It’s the last twenty minutes or so of the movie, and Audrey Hepburn’s eliminated all light sources to gain an advantage over Alan Arkin. So Ryan’s apartment is SUPREMELY dark.

Right at the infamous jump scare of Alan Arkin leaping out from the dark accompanied by a chord scare to grab Audrey Hepburn’s ankle, the fire alarm starts buzzing, drowning out Audrey’s screams. The combination of the alarm and the tense moment in the film cause Ryan to basically fall out of his chair, that’s how startled he is.

He fumbles to get up, switch on a light, and pause the movie. He briefly flashes back to college, and fire drills in the dorm buildings that always seemed to happen once in a while. Never expected it in apartment living, though.

Once his bearings are firmly within grasp and his heart stops pounding, Ryan slips into a pair of shoes, grabs a light jacket and his keys, and makes to leave his apartment.

If the buzzing was loud from inside his apartment, it’s practically deafening in the hallways. He walks as fast as he can to the nearest exit, down the few flights of stairs, out on to the street. Thankfully, it’s a short walk to the front of the apartment building.

There are a few people that pass him, grumbling, something about a shitty Halloween prank. Some kids in costumes. When Ryan reaches the front of building, there’s a good crowd already gathered, and everyone there seems to be in costume as well. The front office had posted flyers and sent emails about a Halloween party in the resident community room. He figures that explains it.

Doing his best to not look like a creeper (which he isn’t, he’s just naturally curious), Ryan glances over everyone in costume, just to see if there are any particularly creative ones. There’s a hot dog, some sort of blue peach in fishnets and heels, a sexy ear of corn with her arm around a woman dressed as sexy french fries…

…Ryan’s eyes catch sight of an outfit seminal to his childhood. The silhouette of a familiar red hat and blue coat.

Sure enough, someone—Ryan’s not sure who, their back is turned and he can only see them from the waist up—is dressed as Paddington for Halloween. Whoever it is is probably worth knowing.

Before he can think about walking closer to get a better look, the crowd shifts a little, the figure coming better into view, turning to talk to someone dressed as Matt the Radar Technician. Ryan watches as Paddington turns and…

…oh wow. She’s…really cute, actually.

From underneath the hat, Ryan can make out short black hair, seemingly a bit longer on one side (Ryan wonders if that’s how it’s cut, or if all her hair is just pushed to that side, either way, it works on her). In the dull glow of the front door lamps, he catches the glint of star-shaped earrings. Matt the Radar Technician moves, and Ryan has full view of her costume now. A black-and-white plaid skirt and sheer black tights with small dots here and there, black boots on her feet.

She’s absolutely stunning. On the other hand, she’s dressed as Paddington, and that’s resulting in some internal conflict.

Matt the Radar Technician says something to make her laugh, and oh god, her smile…he wonders if her laugh is as dazzling as her smile is.

The red-and-blue flicker of fire truck lights comes into Ryan’s peripheral vision, snapping him out of his reverie. (Yeah, this is definitely different from college fire drills. Those usually just ended with the RAs saying “okay, all good, you can go back to your dorms now”.)

Ryan watches the firefighters all decked out in their gear heading through the front doors. Some kid yells something about them trick-or-treating and how their costumes are cool, which results in some laughter rippling through the crowd. After a few minutes, they come back out, and people start making their way back into the building.

Ryan loses sight of cute Paddington girl in the crush of bodies. He’s a little disappointed, but…for the better, he supposes.

Someone as pretty as her is probably with someone already.

***

One of the things Ryan loves about living here? The fitness center.

Yeah, the apartment complex has a small fitness center with a decent selection of equipment. No need to subscribe the Y or Planet Fitness or anything. He just has to walk down to the first floor.

He’s lived here long enough now to know the best times to go on the weekends, when he knows no one else will be there. Not because he necessarily likes working out alone, but he’s been to public gyms enough to know that there are some people who get annoyed by those who make a lot of noise when they exert themselves. Being one of the noisy ones, he figures it’s common courtesy not to visit the gym during peak hours.

So he works out in solitude (today, focusing on arms, followed by the elliptical). He’s dripping with sweat by the end and already feeling that weirdly pleasant soreness that comes from exercise working into his muscles. He wipes down the equipment, picks up his water bottle and keys, and heads out of the gym, ready for a shower and breakfast.

Ryan makes for the closest stairwell, because sprinting up a few flights of stairs is so much faster than the ungodly slow elevators in the building. As he opens the door to the stairwell, he greeted with a figure and a startled “Oh!”

It’s Paddington. Well…not dressed as Paddington anymore, obviously. She’s wearing a black shirt with white polka dots underneath a leather jacket. And now that her hat is off, he can see her hair more clearly—not cut shorter on one side, but rather styled too look like she’s tossed it to one side.

…he realizes he’s probably been staring at her longer than what is considered to be polite. And also kind of blocking the doorway. He steps to the side to let her pass.

“Thanks,” she murmurs, voice low and soft. “Sorry.” He can’t say anything before she’s already walking down the hall. Partly because of her quick exit. And also partly because he’s still stunned by her…stunning-ness.

…he also realizes in hindsight that…wow, what a GREAT first impression to make. Looking like a sweaty mess after a particularly fulfilling workout.

Ryan sighs and begins his ascent of the stairs. Again…probably for the better. Like…what are his odds of ever running into her again?

***

What’s worse than the fire alarm going off while watching a horror film?

The fire alarm going off in the middle of the night.

Ryan snorts out of sleep at the BUZZ…BUZZ…BUZZ… and groans, reaching for his phone.

2:58 A.M. What in the actual fuck?

He groans again, kicking the covers back and rubbing his eyes as he turns on a lamp.

It’s been…what, not even a full month since the fire alarm went off last? Why would it be going off again so soon?

Ryan doesn’t know, but he just treats it like a fire drill again, slipping into shoes, reaching for keys and a jacket, and trudging downstairs and outside.

The crowd outside is full of sleepy grumbles and yawns. Ryan leans against a stone ledge and glances down at his phone, scrolling through his mailbox.

Someone jostles him, causing him to stumble backwards into somebody.

“Oh god, sorry,” he says, turning towards whomever was just pushed into.

“No worries,” the person says as he’s turning.

It’s her.

“Oh, hey. Paddington.” The stupid words are out of his stupid mouth before he can stop his stupid self from stupidly saying them.

She blinks at him and said stupid words from his stupid mouth.

“I, um…” he begins to explain, rubbing the back of his neck. “I saw your costume the last time the fire alarm went off. On Halloween.”

“Oh,” she says with a nod. “Yeah, that was me. Paddington.”

“It was a great costume.”

“Thanks. …and you’re…um…I ran into you at the stairs once.”

“Yeah, I was…I’d just finished exercising.”

“Yeah.”

A pause. A slightly awkward, mostly sleepy pause.

“Sorry again. Someone ran into me. I don’t know who.”

“It’s okay.”

Another pause. A little less awkward. No less sleepy.

“…hasn’t been long since the last time the fire alarm went off,” he says. She shakes her head in agreement.

“Think it’s another false alarm?” she says. Ryan shrugs.

“Watch it be totally legit and then everyone feel really bad for complaining.”

“I think if it was, we’d smell smoke by now.”

“Fair point.”

She crosses her arms, rubbing her forearms for warmth. The robe she’s wearing over her pajamas, though covering her arms, must be lightweight.

“It’s a good thing the alarms are as loud as they are, or I’d just sleep right through them,” Ryan says.

“Yeah, and then you’d get fined,” she comments. Ryan raises his eyebrows. “I had a friend who apparently got fined for ignoring the fire alarm and just staying in their room.”

“That sucks,” Ryan says. She shrugs.

“Sucks for the front office, too; apparently, they have to pay a fine for every false alarm.” Ryan nods.

“That makes sense,” he agrees. “…I mean, you’re right, it’s sucks, but it makes sense.” She looks down, then laughs to herself.

“Maybe this was a setup to get people out for Black Friday shopping,” she suggests. It’s Ryan’s turn to blink at her, before realization sets in.

“Oh yeah, it IS Black Friday!” She covers her mouth as she laughs (and…yeah, her laugh is as beautiful as he’d thought it would be—a rich, warm laugh.) “Sorry for being so slow to realize; in my defense, it IS three in the morning.”

“So it is,” she says, her laughter giving way to a yawn. From behind her shoulder, Ryan can see the approaching fire trucks.

“Should be able to get back in soon,” he says. She nods. They both watch the firefighters go inside, then turn back to each other, exchanging smiles, the silence…less awkward than before they’d started talking, but still tinged with awkwardness.

“I’m Ryan, by the way,” he says, sticking his hand out. “Sorry, I…just realized we’ve been talking for a while and I hadn’t introduced myself officially. You know, outside of ‘sweaty guy from the stairwell’.”

That gets her to laugh again.

“I’m tempted to tell you my name actually IS Paddington,” she says. She pauses, laughing at whatever incredulity shows on Ryan’s face. “Don’t worry, it’s not.” She reaches out to shake his hand. “I’m Annie.”

Annie. Annie Annie Annie. He’s going to commit that name to memory, even if he never runs into her after tonight…today…whatever.

“Nice to meet you, Annie,” he says.

“Nice to meet you, Ryan.”

People walk past them. Ryan glances over his shoulder to see people walking towards the front door.

“I think we can go back inside now,” Ryan says.

“Oh, thank god, sleep,” Annie sighs. “…sorry…I get kind of…blunt when I’m sleep-deprived.”

“You’re fine,” Ryan says. “So…same time, same place next month?”

“God, I hope not,” she says, prompting a laugh from Ryan. They make for the front door, not really walking with each other, but in the same general direction, kind of close. When they reach the first floor, Annie reaches for the door.

“Sleep well,” she says as Ryan passes her for the stairs.

“You too,” Ryan says. With one last smile, she passes through the door. After a moment, he calls out, “Or enjoy your Black Friday shopping!” Her laughter echoes in the corridor.

He’s able to get back to sleep for another few hours. Her laughter echoes in his dreams.

***

He’s coming back from a New Year’s party the next time he sees her.

The last thing Ryan expects to see when he’s getting out of his Lyft is a crowd around the front of the apartment complex. But sure enough, there’s a crowd. Ryan gives his Lyft driver a VERY generous tip, wishes them a happy new year, and walks closer, trying to discern what’s going on.

Again, he’s vaguely aware that the apartment complex was probably having some sort of New Year’s shindig, but…what, did they randomly decide to move things outside? Then he ears grumbles of “…third fucking one in three fucking months” and knows the fire alarm went off again.

He leans against the same stone ledge with a sigh, not looking up at the person already leaning against it. When he looks up, he’s greeted with a familiar face.

“Hey!”

Annie looks up from her phone and blinks in surprise before a smile lights up her face.

“Oh! Hi,” she says. “We keep meeting like this.”

“I’d say ‘there are worse ways’ but…” Ryan says with a shrug.

“Yeah, someone decided to ring in the new year with the wrong kind of bells,” Annie sighs, shutting her phone off and shoving it into the pocket of her jacket. “Buzzers. Whatever.”

“Think it’s been the same person every time?” Ryan asks. Annie shrugs.

“If it is…how are they still living here? Like, how have they not been kicked out?”

“Right?”

Annie laughs before sipping from the mug she now cradles in both hands.

“This year sucks so far.” It’s so blunt and so unexpected from what he knows about her (which is, admittedly, very little) that he can’t help but burst into laughter.

“You’re not wrong,” he says between laughs. “About how long ago did it go off?”

“Right at midnight,” she says.

“Of course it was,” Ryan sighs. “Bet that ruined a lot of celebrations.”

“Yeah,” Annie nods in agreement.

“Interrupted a lot of New Year’s kisses,” Ryan continues, because he had enough to drink at the party to think that bringing up kissing to a woman he’s met only thrice so far, doesn’t know that much about, but finds utterly beautiful, is a smart idea.

“Yeah.” Her agreement is a little softer, and she stares into the contents of her mug.

“Did it ruin your New Year’s kiss?” Man, Ryan just cannot stop himself, can he? Annie rolls her eyes.

“Yeah right, are you kidding?” she says with a little cheerless laugh, before glancing up at him, then back down. “Sorry, um…I’m not…bitter, just…no, I was curled up with a book and some tea. That was my New Year’s.” Ryan nods, still slightly taken aback at her initial reaction to the question. “How about you?” She’s still avoiding his eyes as she asks him. “Any New Year’s kiss for you?”

“Interrupted by a fire alarm or otherwise?” It’s a stupid enough comment to break some of the tension and awkwardness. “No.” Annie nods at his answer, runs the tip of her finger on the rim of her mug.

“Fun party?” she asks.

“Yeah, it was all right,” he answers. “Had…maybe a little bit too much to drink.”

“Same.” Annie toasts him with her mug and a wry smile. He laughs.

“Are you telling me you spike your tea?”

“Does Bailey’s non-alcoholic coffee creamer count?”

“Wild woman.”

“Yeah, that’s me.” Once again, sardonic enough for an unexpected laugh to burst out of him.

“I’m honestly surprised,” Ryan begins to say, stopping himself from saying more stupid drunken things.

“What?” Annie asks. “That I’m a wild woman?” She quirks an eyebrow at him as she sips her tea.

“That you don’t have someone to kiss on New Year’s.” It bubbles out of him before he can stop it. She pauses mid-sip before lowering her mug and her eyes.

“No offense, but…you don’t me well enough to say something like that,” she says softly.

If Ryan had any sense, he’d apologize for being so forward. But common sense and alcohol don’t really mix, now, do they?

“I like what I know.”

Annie stares into her mug, swirling its contents. She smiles to herself before looking up at him.

“You’re also drunk,” she says.

“…yeah…a little, yeah,” he admits. It doesn’t negate what he’s said, about liking what he knows of her…but her remark has sobered him up enough to keep him from saying as much. She looks back down at her mug, lifts it to drink down the rest. She’s still avoiding his eyes. Her tongue darts across her lips quickly, as though there’s some tea left on them. Something inside him flips.

“But same,” she says. “The, um…the New Year’s kiss thing. It’s…surprising.”

It takes a longer-than-usual moment for his drink-addled brain to make the connection that she’s not talking about herself…she’s talking about him. And it seems that as soon as he makes the connection, that’s when she looks up at him.

And for a moment, he can’t breathe.

This almost feels like a moment. Probably could be…

…but then they register bodies passing by them, and audible sighs of “FINALLY”.

Ryan blinks, looks around. He’s been so wrapped up in their conversation that he never noticed the fire truck pull up, the firefighters give the okay to go back inside. He turns back to Annie. She’s looking back down at her mug.

“I guess we can go back inside,” he says. She nods, smiles.

They walk more side by side than they had before this time, Ryan pausing when they reach the first floor, to watch Annie open the stairwell door.

“Happy New Year,” he offers.

“Happy New Year,” she offers.

They smile. They part.

Ryan wonders if what just happened rattled her as much as it did him.

***

After New Year’s, it seems like their paths cross more than they usually do. Maybe they always have and he’s never really noticed until now.

Little things like getting into his car and, from a distance, seeing her walk through the garage to her own car. Passing by her in the hallway on the first floor when he’s finished working out. Turning the corner to the nook where the mailboxes are and nearly running into her as she unlocks her own mailbox.

One morning, later in the month, he’s coming back from a run, and she’s at the front door, grocery bags in hand, reaching up for the front door to try and open it with her pinky finger so she doesn’t have to set her bags down.

“I got it!” he calls, jogging up to her, reaching over her arm to pull the door open. She looks up at him, murmurs a “Thank you” as she passes him. The second door requires a swipe of the fob to unlock it. Before she can even blink, Ryan’s reaching over her again to swipe his own fob, then hold the door open for her again. Again, she says “thank you” and passes inside quickly before he has a chance to offer to help with her groceries.

That’s about all these little encounters add up to. Niceties. Politeness.

Ryan would be lying if he said he wasn’t a little disappointed by this. Then again, he never makes any move on his part to make anything more of them, either. No matter how much she wants to. How much he WANTS to get to know her better so the next time he boneheadedly says something about her, he knows her better enough to get away with it.

…maybe next time the fire alarm goes off, since that seems to be their “thing” (if one can even call it a thing). He honestly won’t be surprised if it happens within the next month, given how often it’s been happening.

***

He’s wrong.

It’s not within the next month. It’s within the next week.

(Not a week after New Year’s, a week after he’d said it would be a month.)

He’d glanced outside earlier that night. It had started to rain. (Weather in January in California, right?) So he grabs an umbrella before heading outside, because he’s not sure if it’s progressed to a downpour, or if it’s still at a light-enough drizzle that won’t warrant the use of an umbrella.

Somewhere in-between. So he pops his umbrella open—a small plain black one he’d received as a first-year-anniversary gift from his workplace.

Some people have much larger umbrellas than he does. Others are SOL. One couple with a baby are trying to keep their dog from running around and playing in the rain or jumping into puddles (the baby’s more intrigued by the umbrella, reaching out for one of the spoke tips).

And leaning against the stone ledge (their stone ledge?), huddled into herself as the rain soaks her hair, dampens the shoulders of her jacket, is Annie.

He steels himself, hopes he’s not going to overstep a boundary, and walks up to her, moving the umbrella from over his head to over her head as he approaches. She looks up at it and the sudden halt of rain before looking over at him.

“Thanks,” she says, a bashful smile playing on her lips. “Hi.”

“Hi,” he says. “This is getting old, isn’t it?”

“The rain or the fire alarms?”

“Both.”

Ryan blinks and scrunches his nose when a drop of rain hits him in the eye.

“You don’t have to…” Annie begins, pointing at the rain, then up at the umbrella. “We can share it.”

“It’s a small umbrella,” Ryan explains. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable by getting too close.” Annie glances up at the umbrella, then back at him, then her feet, then up at him again.

“I mean…it’s fine,” she finally says. “Don’t want you to catch a cold or anything.” Ryan nods, taking a step closer into the umbrella. He begins to ask if she’s sure, cutting off when she nods, and he steps in closer.

The tip of his shoe brushes against hers, and he shifts his feet so as not to step on hers. They’re standing close enough that it wouldn’t be a far reach to push away the strands of wet hair that have fallen into her face (which she does as he thinks it).

They turn at the sound of a dog barking. Ryan notices it’s the same dog he saw before with its family, jumping at the approach of the fire truck. The father is keeping hold of the leash, while mom points the flashing red and blue lights out to her entranced baby.

“That’s so cute,” Annie says. Ryan makes a small sound of agreement. “That baby’s incredibly well-behaved.”

“Probably just as sleepy as mom and dad,” Ryan comments, making Annie giggle.

She turns back to look at him, her hair brushing against his neck as she does. She seems poised to say something, but words die on her lips when she notices that…yeah, they are standing quite close together. She avoids his eyes, reaching up with a hand to run her fingers through her hair, comb some of the rainwater out.

“Thanks again,” she says. “For sharing your umbrella.”

“You’re very welcome.”

She smiles to herself.

“What?” he asks.

“Nothing…silly.”

“How silly? Three A.M. silly?”

“Shut up,” she laughs. “It’s really nothing, I just…I got reminded of ‘Little Women’ for a moment.”

“Oh.” He…does not get it. He doesn’t know or remember much about “Little Women” outside of Beth dying and Joey’s Tribbiani’s reaction to Beth dying.

“Have you seen it? Read it?” she asks.

“If I have, it’s been a very long time.” Annie nods.

“Fair enough,” she says, sounding almost…relieved. She finishes with her hair, lowering her hands and shaking them a little to rid them of the water. One of her hands accidentally slaps against his as she does. “Sorry.”

“No worries,” he says. It’s familiar, but different.

…he’s not drunk, but he can’t help himself, and as her hand still brushes against his, makes to move away, he links his pinky with hers, keeping it in place. She looks up at him, seems torn between smiling and staring at him in confusion, and for a fleeting second, he wonders if he fucked everything up…

…but she doesn’t unlink their pinky fingers. Doesn’t pull away. They stay linked in their little moment again, where the smile becomes more certain. He takes in every facet of her appearance while he can, because he runs into her so rarely, and they barely speak, and he really should just ask for her full name, phone number, Instagram, SOMETHING, and he never does.

The few drops of water remaining in her hair sparkle in what little light there is from the lamps, and god, she’s just so beautiful…

…something jumps up on to Annie’s leg, and she yelps and stumbles. It’s instinct that causes Ryan to reach out and wrap an arm around her waist to steady her, one of her hands reaching up to steady herself by grabbing his shoulder, and she laughs and reaches down with her free hand to pet the head of the dog with its front paws perched on her knee.

“Bean, NO,” the dog’s owner says, gently tugging him away from Annie. “I’m so sorry about that.”

“It’s okay,” Annie laughs, petting the dog’s (Bean’s) head. “He’s a sweet little bean.”

It’s when Bean and family are walking away that she realizes hers and Ryan’s positions, and how she’s gripping at Ryan’s shirt and shoulder a bit harder than she meant.

“Sorry,” she says, letting him go, patting his shoulder gently as an apology. (It’s so cute.)

“You all right?” he asks, not removing his hand from her waist right away.

“Fine…thank you.” When she begins to move away…that’s when he lowers his arm.

Their hands brush against each other’s as they make their way up the stairwell. He’s not entirely sure if he imagines Annie linking her pinky with his again quickly before they part ways for the night…but he will imagine it regardless.

Before he goes to bed that night, he looks up “little women umbrella” on YouTube, pulls up a video from the 1990s film. How Winona Ryder is in the rain, holding an umbrella, standing underneath it with an equally wet and happy Gabriel Byrne. He said he has nothing to give her, that his hands are empty. She reaches down for his hand, entwines their fingers, tells him they’re not empty now before kissing him as the music swells.

Ryan’s not sure if this was what came to Annie’s mind when they were standing under the umbrella together…but he hopes. He really really hopes.

***

Amazingly and terribly enough, the fire alarm goes off again the very next day. Twice. In a row. It’s…very weird (but at least it happens at a decent time of night—9:47.)

Ryan’s scrolling through Twitter when it goes off the first time. He’s just slipping into some shoes when it all of a sudden stops. He stops with it. So…does he need to go outside or doesn’t he? Was it a fluke?

He keeps his shoes on just in case and settles back into his chair.

And sure enough, about ten minutes later, the fire alarm’s going off again, this time for longer, and Ryan knows it’s the real deal. He rolls his eyes, flips over to the Weather app on his phone. Not cold enough to warrant a jacket, but he shrugs on a robe over his t-shirt and flannel pants before he heads out.

He’s looking at his phone as he walks towards the front of the apartment building. He pauses closer to the side of the building, near the side exit behind the little stone ledge he always seems to chill at with Annie when these events happen. He looks up, pushing the bridge of the glasses up with a finger a he looks around, glances over at the side exit…

…and he sees Annie, peeking out of the door, hesitant to actually leave it and step outside, She glances back inside, then back out, opens the door a little wider with one hand, keys peeking out from her fingers. It’s upon this motion that Ryan can see her clutching a towel around her body with the other hand.

He doesn’t think twice before he’s walking over, sliding over the stone ledge, and shrugging off his robe to slide around Annie’s bare shoulders as they officially exit the building. He keeps a hand pressed against her back reassuringly as they walk to the other side of the ledge. He looks down to see that she’d been able to slip some shoes on before coming outside (and tries not to stare at whatever glimpse of bare leg that peeps out from beneath the robe as they walk).

“You okay?” he asks when they stop, turning towards her and readjusting the robe at her shoulders as she holds her towel shut with both hands.

“Yeah, I just…I was in the shower when it happened,” Annie says, voice shaking. “I didn’t—my clothes are still in the dryer, I couldn’t—there wasn’t time, wouldn’t have been time in a real fire, I—”

He’s not sure what to say that will help…not right away. But when she ducks her head down and steps forward to hide her face against his chest, he wraps his arms around her waist and holds her close. Not so close to make her even more uncomfortable than she already is, but close enough to ensure that her state of dress (undress?) isn’t apparent and that the robe stays in place.

“Thank you,” he can barely hear her whisper. “Thank you so much.” She’s trembling…from the situation, from the chill in the air, from the closeness…maybe one of those, maybe all of them, he doesn’t know. But he runs a hand up and down her back in some sort of effort to abate it.

It’s not how he’d imagined holding her in his arms. Not the most comfortable; the press of her clutched hands feels a bit knotty (and her keys just plain hurt) and the circumstances are less than ideal. But there’s still the faint tickle of her breath against his neck, her damp clean hair brushing against his face (there’s a faint tingle of peppermint from the whiff of her shampoo that he catches, but there’s something else subtler and spicier…he can’t pinpoint it), the weight of her body leaning closer to his as the trembling ceases and the tension in her shoulders relaxes.

“Better?” he asks after a while. He feels her nod against his chest, smiles. She pulls away just enough to look up at him. He’s relieved not to see tears, although he would absolutely have understood, under the circumstances.

“I didn’t know you wore glasses,” she says, a little surprised smile on her face. She frees one hand from the towel to point a finger in his face’s general direction.

“Yeah, I usually don’t,” he says. “Didn’t feel like contacts today.”

“I like them,” she says. “They look good on you.”

“Thanks.” He bites his tongue before he can say something about how she looks good in his robe (despite the fact that she really, really does).

She lowers her head again, some strands of hair falling into her face. She tries to blow them away with a little huff of breath.

“Can I…?” Ryan removes an arm from her waist and moves his hand to her line of sight, poised to help with her hair. She looks back up at him and nods. He tucks the few strands behind her ear (resists the urge to run his thumb against her cheek, cup the side of her face in his palm).

“Thanks again,” she says. “I’m such a mess tonight.”

“No, you’re not,” he says, squeezing her waist gently.

“…technically you’re right, I guess. I was just in the shower.” Ryan feels her jump as a laughs louder than he’d anticipated to.

“I wasn’t expecting that,” he says, laughter calming down.

“Well…we were both thinking it.”

“I wasn’t.” (Which is…sort of true. Yes, the fact that she’d been in the shower minutes before was a thought pinned in the back of his mind that he sort of didn’t want to deal with until he was back in his apartment. But…) “I wouldn’t joke about that.”

“I know you wouldn’t. Or…I guess I HOPED you wouldn’t.”

“Well, now you know.”

Annie nods. resting her head against his chest again, watching the fire truck drive by.

It takes a little longer before they get the go-ahead to go back inside, but when they do, Annie slowly (reluctantly?) pulls herself out of Ryan’s arms.

“Will you…walk me to my door?” Annie asks. “Just so…that way I know you’ll get your robe back.” He was honestly willing to let her keep it, but…this also works. But he hadn’t wanted to ask, lest she get the wrong impression of him.

“Yeah, no problem,” he says.

They walk a little more slowly up the stairs, to ensure the robe and towel stay closed. He lets her lead the way, since all he knows of exactly where she lives is somewhere on the first floor. They turn left, walk past the fitness center, past the community room, until she pauses at a door to unlock it.

“This is me,” she tells Ryan as she turns her key in the lock, nudges the handle down with her elbow to open the door. The robe slips a little with the movement, and she bumps her hip against the door and reaches up to pull it back into place, before she stops. “I, um…I guess I don’t have to worry about this anymore, actually, so…” She shrugs the robe off from her shoulders, tossing her keys somewhere inside her apartment to catch the robe, still holding her towel shut. “Thank you again. So much. This whole night was just…really embarrassing, I’m sorry.”

“It wasn’t a problem at all,” Ryan says. She smiles again…he imagines he sees a blush tinging her cheeks. Their fingers brush as he takes the robe from her.

“Good night,” she says.

“Good night.”

She closes the door, eyes still on him as she does.

He tries not to think too much about…well…everything that just happened? Like…the sight of her bare legs, her bare shoulders, her bare arms. What her body felt like (would feel like) pressed (fully) against his. He DEFINITELY tries not to think about her in the shower. What she looks like underneath the towel. Tries to ignore the faint aroma of her shampoo and soap permeating the fabric of his robe.

He does fine not thinking about all of that, for the most part.

He sure does dream about it, though.

***

The next day, he wakes up to an email from the apartment complex, explaining the recent string of fire alarm incidents. There was a leak an in unoccupied apartment. That leak got into the alarm system and set the alarm off. The leak is being repaired today, so this hopefully shouldn’t happen again.

A little later, he heads down to the first floor, ready to work out. He passes the fitness center and slips a folded piece of paper underneath her door.

_Hey Annie,_

_This is probably a huge breach of privacy or something, and if it is, I’m sorry. But I just wanted to make sure you were still okay after last night. I know you said it was kind of embarrassing, which…I understand completely. But I hope you’re okay. And if I ended up doing anything to make you feel even more uncomfortable, I’m very sorry. I didn’t intend to, and I hope you can forgive me._

_Hope you have a great day, and hopefully, we don’t run into each other at any more fire alarm funtimes. :P_

_Sincerely,_

_Ryan_

(He debated with himself for a good five minutes before adding his apartment number next to his name.)

After he leaves the note under her door, he passes by the gym again and decides to go for a run instead.

***

That evening, when he comes home from work, he hears something crinkle beneath his foot. A folded-up piece of paper.

_Dear Ryan,_

_Your letter wasn’t a huge breach of privacy at all. It was actually quite a pleasant surprise._

_I’m much better after last night, thank you. (Although I will now keep a robe handy at all times, lest the fire alarm go off again when I’m getting ready for bed.)_

_You didn’t make me uncomfortable at all. Admittedly, the whole situation was incredibly uncomfortable. But actually, you did quite the opposite. You made the whole situation so much more tolerable than it would have been otherwise. I don’t know a lot of people here (I’m a bit of an introvert, for the most part, in case that wasn’t already terribly obvious). Really, I think I know you best, and we don’t talk much at all. But you didn’t think twice to help in the way you did. And I can’t thank you enough for that._

_I hope your day was a good one. And even if we don’t run into each other when there are fire alarm shenanigans (which, given the news of repairs, that shouldn’t happen again for a while), I do hope our paths cross._

_Sincerely,_

_Annie_

***

He leaves her another note a few mornings after the first one. She’s right. They haven’t talked much at all, outside of fire alarms. So…why not continue that? (Also, she doesn’t owe him anything; it’s what any decent person would have done.)

He receives a second note from her that evening. She’s game. (Also, she’s not convinced; she will pay him back for his kindness, somehow.)

It becomes a thing. Sort of like penpals, but not at all. They joke about how it would be easier to just exchange social media info, email addresses, phone numbers…

…but honestly, this is just more fun. He looks forward to coming home and finding a new message in her simultaneously elegant yet messy handwriting, can imagine her sipping from a mug of tea and chewing on the end of her pens as she thinks of what new thing to tell him.

She admits a similar fondness to their letters; it’s corny, she knows, but it sort of makes her feel like a heroine in one of the old-fashioned romance novels she loves so much. (Although he shouldn’t read too much into that, she says; she’s just being silly.)

(He is so very Very VERY tempted to write that she has nothing to worry about; she’s more than tolerable, and absolutely handsome enough to tempt him, to say nothing of her fine eyes.) (He doesn’t.)

On Valentine’s Day, he finds and prints off a little Paddington valentine image he was able to find online.

Her valentine to him? A picture of a fire truck with the text “Sound the alarm, it’s Valentine’s Day!” (She couldn’t resist.)

God, but he’s so gone on her…he’s all of the synonyms. Enamored. Besotted. Twitterpated. All of them.

***

It’s only one evening a few days after Valentine’s Day (so many letters later) that he practically sprints down the hall of the first floor towards her apartment. He hadn’t managed to get a letter to her that morning and figured late was better than not at all.

Of course, the problem was, in their routine, his letters came in the morning, and hers in the evening. He was never sure quite when in the evening before he was home from work.

But at the sound of approaching footsteps and a familiar voice saying his name, now he knows. He stands upright, from where he’d bent over to slip the letter underneath her door, and looks up at her.

“Hi,” she says, surprised and smiling.

“Hey stranger,” Ryan says, voice much calmer than how he feels inside. He holds the letter up. “Sorry I was late this morning. Was with my parents for a few days, didn’t have time.”

“It’s okay,” she says, walking up to him to take the letter. “Thank you.” A pause. “I’m just back from dropping yours off.”

“I look forward to reading it.”

Another small silence. Comfortable. Familiar. Yet full of something Ryan can’t discern. Perhaps just from having not seen her in a while.

“Would you like to come in?” Annie asks, gesturing at her door with the folded-up letter. “For a cup of tea?”

“...yeah…yes, that’d be great,” Ryan says after what he hopes wasn’t far too long of a pause. She smiles and unlocks her door.

She has a studio, like he does; the layout feels exactly the same as he steps in. Small. Cozy. Can see basically the whole of the apartment from the front door. Hers feels much warmer than his, though. Not in temperature, but in hominess. Coziness. The artwork she has hanging on the walls, the blanket draped over the top of a huge comfy-looking chair. A tall simple bookcase filled with hardcovers and paperbacks, with a shelf reserved for a few stuffed animals, Paddington being one among them. All her little knick-knacks and furnishings.

The rattle and clink of coffee mugs comes from the kitchen, and he realizes he should be a better houseguest…well…apartment-guest.

“Your place is really nice,” he says, walking towards the kitchen and pausing by the countertop, watching her as she sets a couple of mugs down before closing one cabinet and opening another.

“Thanks,” she says as she searches for something.

“I’m a little embarrassed now, honestly,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Mine feels like a dorm room in comparison.” She laughs as she fills a kettle with water.

“Decoration not your forte?”

“Outside of a few movie posters, not really.”

“I’m sure it’s not as bad as a dorm room.”

“You don’t know that.”

“True. You might have to show me sometime.”

He blinks at her last sentence. It’s so casual, so innocent, the way she says it…and there’s that heartsick part inside of him that wants it to be anything but. If she had indeed meant it another way and hadn’t realized it until after saying it, she doesn’t show it. Or if she does, he can’t tell because she turns her back to him to open another cabinet.

“What kind of tea would you like?” she asks, pushing up on to her tiptoes. “I’ve got more than a few, all different kinds, black tea, green tea, rooibos, herbal…”

“What do you usually go for?” Ryan asks, stepping a little further into the kitchen, trying to peer over he shoulder without crowding her. She lowers herself from her tiptoes and turns to him.

“Depends on the night,” she says with a shrug. “What the day was like.”

“What are you feeling like tonight?” She looks up and to the side, in thought. He’s not sure if she’s consciously biting her lip as she thinks, but he kind of can’t look away from it.

“I bought a blend a while ago I’ve been meaning to try,” she finally says. He blinks, mentally shaking himself out of staring at her lips. “Green rooibos and matcha.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“…I get the feeling you’re not familiar with either green rooibos or matcha.”

“Not a clue. But I trust your judgment.”

She rolls her eyes, but smiles at him before looking back up at the shelf in the cabinet where she keeps her tea. She’s back up on her tiptoes, grips the edge of the shelf with one hand as she seems to be reaching for the back. He smiles at the frustrated little “come on” he hears her mutter.

“Need some help?” Ryan asks.

“Don’t know how it got shoved so far back there…” She’s still talking more to herself than to him. He walks up behind her and touches her shoulder gently, just to let her know he’s standing behind her.

“Which one is it?” he asks, peering at the shelf, at the various boxes and tins of tea.

“The green tin, in the very back,” she says, pointing at a verdant label. With a bit of a stretch, he manages to get a grip on the tin and retrieves it from the shelf.

“Here you are,” he says, handing the tin to her.

“Thanks,” she says, taking the tin. “Saved me from having to break out the stepstool.”

“You’re not short.”

“Shorter than you. Even on my tiptoes.” To prove her point, she raises herself on to her tiptoes again. “See?”

She is still a little shorter than him even on tiptoe, this is true. She’s also at such a height that he wouldn’t need to bend down much to kiss her. Even if she weren’t on tiptoe, it still wouldn’t be too much of a stretch, just lowering his head to press his lips to hers…

…she’s gone quiet. Possibly the same awkward what-a-realization-to-have quiet that he’s overcome with. Because they’re standing pretty close to each other. Close enough for him to feel the tin in her hand brush against the front of this shirt. She’s blushing…easy to tell in the kitchen light. But she isn’t looking away or ducking her head. And there’s still that thought in the forefront of his mind, how easy it would be to…

The whistle of the kettle pierces the air and shatters the moment. She steps away to turn the heat off and move the kettle off of the burner. She pops the lid of the tin off with her thumb, letting out a little surprised gasp when a small puff of green powder emits from the tin.

“That would be the matcha,” she says with a little laugh. She takes out two circular tea bags, dropping one in each cup. A dusting of the green matcha powder stains her thumb. He looks away as she instinctively brings her thumb to her mouth to suck the powder off.

She pours the water. It takes a few minutes for the tea to steep and more than a few minutes after that for the tea to cool. They talk about things, mentioned in their letters and not mentioned. He asks her about more of her favorite teas, since he doesn’t drink much of it himself. Some of them sound…interesting (to put it nicely). Some of them sound really good.

The green rooibos matcha combo is really nice. Grassy and earthy and fresh. The matcha powder sinks to the bottom of the cup, and they both have a fun time swirling their mugs to incorporate the sediment through the liquid.

The moment of closeness from earlier doesn’t come up.

As she’s putting their empty mugs in the sink and the tea back up, he spots something on her refrigerator. His Paddington valentine. He doesn’t mention it to her, but his heart flips at the sight, and he can’t help but smile.

He’s still smiling when she turns to look at him. She smiles back.

***

Along with their letters, now they try to meet up once a week for tea. Sometimes they just talk. Sometimes they watch an episode of something. Every time, she has a new blend of tea for him to try. Sometimes with the added brightness from the squeeze of a lemon, or the sweetness from a drizzle of honey.

One night, she has a REAL treat for him. Something she’s been a little addicted to recently.

Irish breakfast tea steeped for at least half an hour (“so strong it’s basically coffee”), with a generous splash of Bailey’s Irish cream coffee creamer.

“No actual Bailey’s?” Ryan asks, only the teensiest bit sassy.

“Nah, that was for St. Patrick’s Day proper,” Annie sasses right back as she pours the creamer into their mugs of tea. With the stir of a spoon, the liquid swirls from dark-brown-almost-black to a light tan. She hands a mug to him. He cradles it with both hands and lifts it to his nose to inhale the steam and aroma.

“That smells amazing,” he sighs. Annie nods as she drinks from her mug. “Aren’t you worried about burning your tongue off?”

“It’s been steeping and therefore cooling for at least twenty minutes,” she says. “Also, the creamer helps.” Ryan shrugs. He can’t fault her logic. He takes a small sip. Sure enough, it’s not burning hot. More importantly…

“…oh wow, that is INSANELY good,” he says, taking another sip. “How’d you come up with this?” She shrugs.

“St. Patrick’s Day. Irish breakfast tea, Irish coffee creamer…went with a theme.” Ryan laughs.

“Good theme to go with.” Another sip. “You know what would make it better?”

“If it was the alcoholic Bailey’s and not the coffee creamer Bailey’s?”

“You know me so well.”

“I try.” She smiles from around the edge of her mug as she sips.

“Does this concoction have a name?” Ryan asks.

“…don’t know. Haven’t really thought about it,” Annie says with a shrug.

“…I mean, there’s always the old standby,” Ryan suggests. “‘Kiss Me, I’m Irish’.”

Ryan can’t even blame it on the Bailey’s, because it’s the coffee creamer Bailey’s and not the alcohol Bailey’s. But there he goes, mentioning kissing again stupidly. One would think he’d learned his lesson after New Year’s, but nope.

Annie stares at the contents of her mug before setting it down on the counter.

“Do you mind if I do something…potentially very stupid?” she asks.

“…um…okay?” he half-answers, half-asks. “How stupid are we talking?”

She doesn’t answer. Not right away.

“I know you’re not Irish, but…”

She steps closer to him and reaches up to brush the side of his face with her fingers. Seems to hesitate for just a moment before leaning in even closer. And she barely has to raise her head that much to brush her lips against his.

He’s too stunned to react. To reciprocate. Honestly, he thinks for a moment this is another dream, that when he opens his eyes, he’ll be in the dark of his apartment, face half-buried in a pillow.

But he opens his eyes when he feels her pull away. And sure enough…it’s real. The brush of her fingers against his skin, the flutter of her breath against his lips just before she backs away, the pink flushing in her cheeks.

“If that was stupid, I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I’ve just…I’ve been wanting to do that for a really long time.”

Ryan sets his mug down; it clatters a little against the counter because his hands are trembling a bit. He turns back to her and steps in close again.

“Not stupid,” he says as he reaches out to cup her cheek. “Not stupid at all.” Her smile calms his heart a little.

“Not even using ‘kiss me I’m Irish” as an excuse?” she asks, voice trembling, reaching up to hold his wrist, keep his hand pressed against her cheek, as though she also needs reassurance that this is happening, that what she just did wasn’t stupid.

He doesn’t really know how to answer. Doesn’t know if he can. He’s just…so incredibly happy that this is real. That she just kissed him.

So instead, he kisses her again. A kiss she eagerly returns, one hand moving to the back of his neck, the other resting on his shoulder. His arms wrap around her waist, pull her even closer. The taste of tea and cream lingers on her, and maybe she was lying about that Bailey’s not being alcoholic, because he feels a kind of giddiness he’s only ever felt when drunk. (Maybe he’s just drunk on her and the softness of her lips and every single thing about her and just knowing that she wants this and wants him.)

(He’s going to write her all the love letters in the world now.)

***

Ryan is roused from sleep by a familiar BUZZ…BUZZ…BUZZ… He groans and turns over in bed, keeping his eyes squeezed shut as he feels an arm reach over him to turn the bedside lamp on.

“What time is it?” he mumbles, still not opening his eyes.

“1:27,” Annie says. He feels her lips against his cheek and her hand pat his thigh.

“Can’t we just ignore it?” he groans.

“You really wanna chance it?” Annie asks, combing her fingers through his hair. “What if the place really is on fire?” He opens his eyes, blinking a little at the light, gazes up at her. “Besides, this is the first one we’ve had in while.”

She’s not wrong. It’s been…months, actually.

“You’re right,” he says. She leans down and pecks a quick kiss to his lips.

“C’mon,” she says, pushing the covers off of them. “The sooner we get out there, the sooner it’ll be over.”

“Unless you were right the first time and we really ARE going down in flames,” he says, rubbing his eyes as he sits up, shifting his legs off the bed so he can slip his feet into his slippers.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” Annie says, pulling on a robe—his robe, from so many months back—and walks over to him with another robe.

“Thanks,” he says as he stands up to shrug on the robe. He hears a little huff of laughter. “What?”

“Just…funny,” she says. “First one of these since we got together, and they’re the reason we met.” He reaches out to stroke her cheek.

“You’d think we’d be fonder of them,” he says. Annie turns her head to kiss his palm; he feels her smile against his skin.

“If they didn’t almost always happen at ungodly hours of the night…” she says.

“Just you wait, this is how I’m gonna propose to you,” Ryan says.

“Don’t even joke about that.”

“Proposing to you with a false fire alarm at three in the morning, or proposing to you, period?”

She gives him a look. He just shrugs and leans in to kiss her. A soft little peck at first. Then another. Then another longer kiss. And another. She pulls away at the sweep of his tongue against her lips.

“Okay, not right now,” she says with a little laugh as Ryan keeps her close, kisses her neck. “After, okay?”

“Promise?” he asks, kissing her neck again, in the spot where he knows she’s most ticklish, smiles at she giggles.

“Promise,” she agrees as she laughs. He presses one more kiss to her neck before kissing her cheek. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I hate fire alarms and I love you. What’s ridiculous about that?”

“Nothing.” She kisses his cheek. “I love you, too.” Kisses his lips before taking his hand. “Let’s get downstairs. Then this will be over sooner and we can get right back to this.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> feedback welcome and appreciated.


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